Chapter 4 - The Poisoned Pen
By 8:00 AM, I returned to the estate.
The HVAC truck David Stern had promised was already parked in the driveway. Three technicians in gray uniforms were systematically inspecting the vents in the main hallways.
Inside my private study, Stern himself—a stocky man with razor-sharp gray eyes and a silent demeanor—handed me a small black velvet pouch.
"We found four covert listening devices," Stern reported in a low voice. "One under your desk, one inside the master bedroom headboard, and two inside the boys' playroom. All four transmit directly to an encrypted server registered to a shell company in Wilmington."
"Who owns the shell company?" I asked.
Stern pulled a tablet from his coat and tapped the screen. "A holding company managed by Dr. Richard Vance."
I stared at the black pouch on my desk. Vivian hadn't just been overhearing my conversations; she had been tracking my every move for months, learning my schedules, monitoring my calls with my attorneys, and waiting for the precise moment to strike.
"Leave the bugs active," I instructed Stern. "If she thinks I know nothing, she’ll proceed with her primary timeline."
"And what is her primary timeline?" Stern asked.
"The charity gala tomorrow night," I said. "She mentioned Vance would be sitting at our table. She’s going to use that event to stage something—a scene, a medical emergency, or a public display of Ethan and Caleb’s 'instability' in front of our board members."
"What do you want my team to do?"
"I want you to tap Vance’s private server," I commanded. "I want every email, every financial transfer between Vivian and Blackwood Institute, and every medical prescription Vance has written in the last three years."
Stern nodded grimly. "Consider it done. But Arthur... what about the boys right now? If she’s altering their food or medicine..."
"They aren't eating anything in this house that I don't personally cook," I said.
Ten minutes later, I walked into the sunny breakfast nook overlooking the pool.
Vivian was sitting at the glass table, wearing a crisp white linen dress, sipping green tea, and reading a luxury lifestyle magazine. She looked like the picture of wealthy, unbothered elegance.
Ethan and Caleb sat across from her, completely silent, picking at a plate of sliced fruit.
"Good morning, darling," Vivian said, glancing up with a radiant smile as if yesterday’s police raid had never happened. "Did you sleep well in the study?"
"Work was demanding," I said smoothly, walking to the counter and pouring myself a black coffee. "I spoke to the police precinct this morning."
Vivian’s hand paused over her tea glass for a fraction of a second. "Oh? Did they finalize the charges against Maya?"
"The precinct captain said there was a minor clerical delay with the filing," I lied effortlessly, sitting down at the head of the table. "They’re holding her until tomorrow morning."
Vivian’s smile tightened slightly at the corners, but she quickly smoothed it out. "Good. The faster that woman is behind bars, the safer our children will be."
She reached out to ruffle Caleb’s hair, but the six-year-old instinctively flinched away, nearly knocking over his glass of orange juice.
Vivian’s dark eyes flashed with cold annoyance, but she kept her voice sweet. "Caleb, sweetie, don't be clumsy. Dr. Vance will be visiting us this afternoon before the gala to give you your new vitamins."
I saw Ethan’s little leg shake under the glass table.
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"Actually, Vivian," I said, setting my coffee cup down with a sharp clink, "I’ve cleared my schedule for the afternoon. I’ll be here when Dr. Vance arrives. In fact, I'm looking forward to having a very long, detailed chat with him about our sons' care."
Vivian stared at me, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to read my face. But I offered her only the polished, professional smile of a surgeon about to make his first incision.
